


Cinematics

by scottmczall



Series: Cinematics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmczall/pseuds/scottmczall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Lydia were exhausted.</p><p>If anyone had passed them by on an ordinary school day, they wouldn’t notice much, or generally anything at all. Scott would be toting an enormous smile that could probably outshine the sun, as he usually does, and Lydia would be donning the best clothes with perfect makeup, as she usually does. They would look put together, functional, happy, even—laughing at each other’s jokes, walking to class with their friends, doing normal teenager things. </p><p>But Stiles wasn’t just anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Scott and Lydia were _exhausted._

If anyone had passed them by on an ordinary school day, they wouldn’t notice much, or generally anything at all. Scott would be toting an enormous smile that could probably outshine the sun, as he usually does, and Lydia would be donning the best clothes with perfect makeup, as she usually does. They would look put together, functional, _happy_ , even—laughing at each other’s jokes, walking to class with their friends, doing normal teenager things.

But Stiles wasn’t just anyone.

He sees the way that Scott’s eyelids are drooped, and the way his smile doesn’t radiate warmth the way it used to. He sees the way Lydia has to constantly adjust her makeup in her little compact mirror because she’s scared that the dark circles will show, clearing her throat constantly because the nightmares leave her screaming. They pretend that everything is fine, hiding behind their shields, Scott behind his kindness, Lydia behind her coldness.

So, one particular Friday, he takes it upon himself to grab Lydia and pull her out of her double period calculus class that he knew she was ages ahead of anyway using some bullshit excuse—he may or may not have forged a note from another teacher going on and on about the necessity of pulling Lydia out of class—and sneaking up behind Scott and tugging him by the belt loops to steer him in the direction of the school parking lot right as he’s about to walk into Coach’s health class (he’s pretty sure that Coach saw _precisely_ what Stiles was doing, but there would be time to deal with the consequences of that later).

Fifteen minutes and a uncharacteristically silent ride in the Jeep later, he’s pushing his two best friends into his living room, nudging them to take a seat on his couch.

“Sit!” he motions wildly with his arms, and Lydia’s rolling her eyes, but makes herself comfortable while Scott settles into the couch like he’s told. They watch as Stiles runs around his house from room to room, gathering random ingredients that neither of them could discern, and after about ten minutes of waiting, Lydia’s had enough.

“Stiles, what are we doing here?" she sighs tiredly. "Is there really something so important that you had to pull us out of school for? You know Coach isn’t gonna let Scott get away with missing health,” she sneers at him unconvincingly, “And the calculus teacher really isn’t as dumb as you’d like to think,”

He emerges from his kitchen trying to balance a random assortment of things: a huge bowl of popcorn, packages of candy, and what looked like a boxset of movies, “Look Lyds, I just had to get you guys out of there, okay? We’re having a movie night!” and he’s so distracted by his own voice that he barely makes it across the living room before it all goes toppling out of his hands, and Stiles goes tripping face first into the carpeted floor.

Scott and Lydia jump up immediately, but Scott’s the only one fast enough to even attempt scrambling to catch the earthbound items (and the earthbound Stiles, for that matter) before they collapse to the floor.

“Whoa, dude, you alright? C’mon, let’s get you up.” He grabs Stiles by the arm and pulls him up while balancing the stuff Stiles had been holding with his other free hand.

Stiles flashes him a brilliant beaming smile, “Thanks Scotty, you’re my hero,” and Scott feels his face pull up into a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in forever.

“It’s daytime.” Lydia points out after all of them regain their postures. Stiles doesn’t even know how she manages to sound that skeptical using such little words.

“Yeah, so? It’s movie _night_ in our hearts.” He argues. “Can you just please listen? For once?”

“Stiles—”

“Lydia, maybe we should do this.” Scott intervenes, gently reaching for her wrist in a small movement. She takes a shallow breath, looking up at him. They stare at each other for a second too long and the way Scott looks down at her seems to say it all when she moves a little closer, swallowing dryly as she abandons her struggle. Her gaze drops to her feet and she glances back up at Scott before looking at Stiles again.

“Fine.” She breathes it out warily. “Let’s get this over with.”

Stiles grins at her, letting himself enjoy the victory and points them to the stairs. He swears that out of the corner of his eye he catches Lydia sharing a warm smile with Scott, and feels a shudder rush through him at the sight of them that he tries somewhat unsuccessfully to pass off as a twitch. It was so infrequently that he caught them genuinely enjoying themselves anymore that he’d take pretty much anything at this point, possible hallucination or not.

“To my room.” He says, quickly, and before he knows it both of his friends are taking everything out of his hands, glaring pointedly at him (well, at least Lydia is). He smiles uncomfortably behind them, suddenly very aware of his clumsiness, almost missing it when Scott sighs after looking down at the box set.

“Star Wars?”

Lydia lets out a sharp laugh before Scott even gets the first syllable of the movie out, “Oh no, you must be utterly delusional if you think you’re going to get away with pulling me out of class to watch _Star Wars,_ ” and she’s sending him this vicious look that _almost_ makes him reconsider the stunts he’d pulled to get them to his house.

They amble into his room, and each make themselves comfortable around the familiar space. They moved so easily together, settling into their designated spots like puzzle pieces. They fell into routine around the bedroom with practiced ease. Lydia scoots up into the corner of Stiles bed, pressing herself against the wall as Stiles hops into the center of the bed letting his limbs go flying for a bit before letting Scott settle on the right side of him.

Stiles’ bed was big, bigger than they ever originally thought or expected when the three of them found themselves laying around in it. They’d plenty of space to spread out their bodies just how they were the most comfortable. As they try to settle into position, Lydia’s tossing her legs over Stiles’ legs, toes pressing gently into Scott’s thigh and her back pressing up against the wall, Scott’s throwing his arm around the bedframe with his legs splayed around him, and Stiles is slumped in a vaguely inhuman position with the popcorn and snacks tossed haphazardly around him to suit everyone’s specific snacking needs (Skittles and sour straws on Scott’s side, Reeses’ and gummy worms on Lydia’s).

Once they’re comfortable, Stiles tries to ignore the daggers that Lydia’s shooting at his head, and announces casually to the room, “So, on tonight’s agenda we have a wonderfully wide selection of any of the Star Wars films”,

As expected, he gets a resounding groan in response, and he throws up his arms in protest, “Oh, come _on_ you guys, please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I swear, I won’t say a word while we’re watching,”

“Hmm, considering how much you already quote the movie as it is in completely unnecessary contexts, I’d say that that’s highly improbable,” Lydia jumps in.

“Oh, right that makes it _all_ better,” Scott mutters, mouth already stuffed with the candy that Stiles’d set out.

Stiles just shoots a look at Lydia, before looking over to Scott, “Scott, I’m wounded. You _owe me this_ , you’ve been promising for years!”

Scott just looks up at the ceiling, pulling his lip into his mouth and avoiding Stiles’ gaze, so Lydia decides to jump in for him.

“Okay, well it’s 2015, I think that we can forgo your outdated DVDs, and just watch something on your laptop instead.”

“Lyds, I swear to God if you suggest that we watch The Notebook, I’m shutting this party down right here, right now.”

Lydia looks positively outraged, “Oh, so it’s totally acceptable for us to watch your favorite movie, but if I suggest mine, it’s a travesty? Unwatchable?”

“Yeah, that’s precisely what The Notebook is, a travesty, cinematically _unwatchable,_ ”

She narrows her eyes at him, “Right, I totally forgot, you’re the film critic around here,” She waves a hand at his drawer stuffed with miscellaneous mismatched DVD covers and VHS tapes, “Except based on your disgusting collection of movies, you have literally no idea what you’re talking about,” She folds her arms over her chest, and refuses to look Stiles in the eyes. Instead, she turns to Scott, who’d tended to taking her side when Stiles was being unreasonable, “Scott? Notebook?”

Scott can’t look at either of them at this point because had anyone in the world asked him the two movies that he would rather eat his own boogers than watch, it was those two. He twiddles his fingers in his lap and looks up at the ceiling again, and after a few seconds of silence, Lydia sighs in his direction, and looks back at Stiles, who looks simultaneously like he’s this close to giving up and watching the stupid Notebook at Lydia’s request and like he’s willing to fight for the death just to ensure that they’re going to watch his favorite movie.

Scott makes a decision right then and there, since it seemed like there would be no movie watching unless he settled the dispute. He puts a hand on either of their arms, squeezing gently, and looking over at Lydia, “Sorry, Lyds, I think we’re gonna have to go with Star Wars tonight, because it honestly seems like Stiles might disown us if we don’t do this now,”

She’s still pursing her lips at the both of them, letting out a little annoyed sigh, but relaxing at Scott’s touch. She finally makes eye contact with Stiles, and mutters out a tiny, almost imperceptible, “Fine,”

But she doesn’t try to hide her smile when Stiles does a little victory dance, and Scott pokes her right in the rib.

It was a miracle that, of all the people in this world, these two idiots could get Lydia Martin to watch Star Wars.

And she was kind of okay with it.

\--

They should’ve really seen it coming. It’s Lydia, after all, and she’s simply bound to crush things with her genius. The first time she speaks during the movie, Stiles moves beside her and Scott swears he’s shifting away, like he literally cannot stand to be in contact with someone mouthing off at his biggest cinematic obsession. It starts with “It’s just ridiculous to use terrestrial models for aircrafts that are supposed to be traveling through near-vacuum”, and that is nothing compared to her other notes.

After the first movie, Stiles is irritated to the point where he can’t even look at the TV without glancing back at her to make sure she’s not about to say anything else. Which she mostly is.

Scott, on the other hand, seems to have enough fun for the two of them, just watching Stiles groan in frustration every time Lydia talks freely about something like sounds in space and how they must be living in some sort of alternative universe with different laws of physics that allow such a thing, proceeding to side eye Stiles with devilish smirks when the boy sinks his head down the pillow on his lap, or Scott’s shoulder.

“That was awful!” Stiles whines, letting his shoulders fall. Credits roll on the TV and he doesn’t have the will to put the fourth movie in. Scott notices the way that Stiles’ shoulders slump down sadly, and scrunches his face in concern.

He puts a hand on his bicep, squeezing reassuringly. Stiles looks up at him with a sheepish look on his face, and Scott sends him a radiant smile that _actually reached his eyes_ , sparkling right in Stiles’ face so brightly that he almost had to squint his eyes at the sight of him. But that was Scott, the Scott that was all sunshine and butterflies and it was so good to see him back that Stiles claps his hand over the one that Scott had on his shoulder and smirks back at him.

“Right?" Lydia agrees. Stiles snaps out of his reverie to shoot her an angry glare. She just raises her eyebrows at, cheeks dimpling. He feels another little jump in his stomach as her face changes, tallying off another win for himself as she seems to regress back into a less calloused version of Lydia, one that he’d known what seemed like a million years ago. They don't know if she's being sarcastic or not, but Stiles keeps up his angry look nonetheless.

“I liked it,” Scott continues to smile happily, wiggling his feet and settling more comfortably into his spot.

Despite his previous misconceptions about what he thought of the movie, it actually ended up being better than he thought. When he finishes talking, he watches as Lydia and Stiles’ heads snap to look at him and he thinks that if that had happened any more in sync he’d think that they were literally the same person.

Lydia cocks an eyebrow at him, feigning disappointment, but Scott sees right through it. She’s been putting on a show the whole night, intent on wrecking Stiles just for the fun of it. She practically reeked excitement, and he’d heard every erratic jump of her heart whenever something action packed happened.

Scott was also pretty sure Stiles also wasn’t very convinced because once, she gasped so loudly that she had to press herself into Stiles’ shoulder for a _fraction_ of a second, but it was already too late, because Stiles rumbled happily to himself.

While Scott thought to himself, Lydia and Stiles wasted no time in getting right back to bickering.

“Lyds, you literally can’t deny that this is one of the most amazing cinematic accomplishments of all time, scientific inaccuracies or not,” He insists, crossing his arms as he looks pointedly at her and her nerve to deny him the pleasure of common interests. And not only an interest, but _the best_ interest.

Lydia rolls her eyes before landing them on Stiles. “I guess it isn’t as horrible as it could be...” She shrugs and almost regrets saying it, even if nonchalantly, after seeing the look the boys exchange.

“She loves it.” Stiles decides, chuckling. “You, Lydia Martin, love Star Wars.”

Lydia frowns, glaring at both him and Scott, who does nothing to hide his cheeky expression. “I do _not._ ” And maybe, just maybe, her tone, instead of the affirmation itself, is what rubs Stiles the wrong way, but he can’t find it in himself to take the high road and accept that she’ll probably never admit to it.

“Scott, as my best friend since _ever,_ ” He stresses, leaning against his friend, “you’re bound by law to tell me if she’s lying or not.”

Scott looks back at both his friends, silently deciding that they’re the only two people in his life with the ability of turning something so simple and purely entertaining into a half serious experience with a high chance of becoming a half serious fight if he doesn’t intervene. “I don’t think I wanna get in the middle of this.” He says sincerely and speaks again when Stiles opens his mouth. “But I think we should head home. It’s getting late.”  

Lydia sniffs with a smile and Stiles’ face falls. “But you’re sleeping over!” He protests, shoulders slumping.

“Well, I need to get home either way, so…” Lydia tilts her head, waiting for them to decide.

“No, the _both_ of you.” Stiles looks back at her. “C’mon it’s not movie night if you don’t sleep over, that’s not how movie nights work, people!”

Lydia and Scott look at each other for a moment, Scott looking to Lydia for a confirmation, and Lydia lets out an exasperated sigh, “Honestly, something tells me I’m _so_ going to regret this, but fine, just put in the fourth movie before you make a mess of yourself. You look like you’re about to explode,” but she’s smiling nonetheless, and Stiles just winks back at her.

He cups her cheek in his hand and drawls, “You, Lydia, are a goddess and a lady, and we’re lucky to have you in our presence,” and he’s got that familiar pooling of heat in his gut when she pulls her lip into her mouth and smirks in that confident Lydia way that forces him to roll over and off the bed to actually put the movie in before he gets lost in her, which he’s done too many times in the past ten years.

She flips her hair as she watches him bound off, “I don’t need _yo_ u to tell me that, Stilinski, but the compliment is appreciated nonetheless.” With Stiles off of the bed, she feels cold, and moves in Scott’s direction to keep herself comfortable, laying her head down on his stomach, and propping her feet up against Stiles’ wall. She hums quietly when Scott slips a hand down and starts playing with her hair, closing her eyes and appreciating the feel of Scott’s hands against her skin.

Stiles glances back at them with a sharp reply hanging from the tip of his tongue, but he swallows every word at the sight before him. There wasn't a wild fantasy on his mind that could compartmentalize that reality, and in all truth, there should've been because that's all he wants; Scott and Lydia in pajamas, comfortable on his bed and with each other. The heat crawling up his chest and neck should say enough about it, but if it doesn't, the choked gasp caught in his chest for the suddenly hot, crowded air sure does.

He shakes his head slightly, trying not to drown in his own thoughts and hurries over to the DVD player, making a show out of wiggling his ass at his friends as he pops in the next movie. When he does so, he hears a pair of giggles behind him. He was used to Scott laughing at his butt related shenanigans, and his ass tended the be the butt of one too many jokes between them if he was being perfectly honest, but Lydia? This was something new. He knows she’d never admit it, but he definitely heard Lydia Martin laughing at Stiles’ ass.

“See something you like?” He does one more little move before he gets a pillow flung in his direction, probably from Lydia’s side of the bed.

“We can’t see the screen with your big ass in the way!” Scott shouts out.

Stiles’ mouth drops open and he scoffs, “Excuse me, my ass is round and adorable, and _perfect_ , I will not have it slandered in my house.” He pauses for a second and then waggles his eyebrows at the two of them, “Wait, you actually want me to move out of the way? You _want_ to watch the movie?” His eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.

Lydia just clacks her tongue, while Scott looks down cheeks turning slightly pink, both of them refusing to look at Stiles directly. He slaps on a shit-eating smile and bounds back over to them, shuffling himself between their bodies and reaching under his pillow to pull out the remote control, “Ha, I knew I could win you over. It just took some patience and dedication-”

“Two things that you _don’t_ have in the slightest,” Lydia interjects.

“Whatever, I don’t need it anyway,” He settles in comfortably, his head settled on Scott’s ribs, and feet poking at Lydia’s thigh, “You’re my patience and you’re my dedication,” he says, taking a look at both of them respectively, and finally takes the remote and presses play.

“Aww, dude that’s so sweet,” Scott whispers while the opening music plays, “Wait, am I patience or dedication?” He’s donning that adorable confused puppy look that made Stiles’ face light up. He just hands Scott some Skittles and shhs him, pointing at the screen.

Scott looks over Stiles’ shoulder and mouths at Lydia _did he just shush me?_ and Lydia shrugs back at him, so Scott gets comfortable against Stiles’ side instead.

And with his two best friends sandwiched against him, finally enjoying one of the best movies ever created, and _finally_ joking around, rebuilding, reconnecting, Stiles couldn’t wipe the satisfied look off his face even if he tried.

Which, he definitely didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Scott's instincts overwhelm him for a full second where all he can think of is how he's _trapped_. He opens his eyes in apprehension, looking around for a threat, but instead he finds familiarity in Stiles' blueish bedroom walls. When he breathes in, satisfied, Scott sees the restriction comes from arms and legs crossed over him comfortably- _possessively_. Stiles' head rests on his shoulder and he's most certainly drooling and snoring softly, even mumbling something not even Scott, with super hearing and extensive knowledge on the variety of Stiles languages, can make something solid out of. His arm is thrown over Scott's body, reaching Lydia's waist, he's stretched and the whole thing looks uncomfortable, but Scott's seen him sleep hanging from the bed, with his face on the floor, so that's no big deal.  

He chuckles when he looks at Lydia, thinking about how she would absolutely deny holding on to him like a lifeline like that out of a situation that absolutely requires it. She's curled against him, her nose touching the crook of his neck and she inhales slowly, in a way that Scott's never heard her do before. Her leg is hitched up, their legs intertwining just slightly, and all he can feel is the warm expanses of her smooth skin. Her closeness makes it impossible for him to see her face, but she has one of her hands on his waist, under his shirt, splayed out gently on his stomach, and it messes with him far more than it probably should.

Scott’s shifted slightly away from Stiles, shoulder leaning slightly against his chest, their bodies slotted together comfortably. He feels the rise and fall of Stiles’ chest behind him, breathing steady, breath warm against his neck. It’s so out of sync with his own pattern of breathing that he almost wants to laugh because he and Stiles operated on such different currents and yet they fit together better than puzzle pieces. His own arm is stretched out towards Lydia, gently spread over the hand that Stiles has situated on her waist.

Scott breathes now easier than he has in months, feeling himself give in to the sensation of being surrounded by his two best friends, sinking further into the love that exhales from the two of them. It's love, undeniably-, sweet and sour, twirling around him with a tender grip, and intoxicating in a way that makes him want to drop everything he's doing and live for it.

He feels warmth blossom in his chest when he realizes that he kind of already did.

After a second of peace, as if on queue, Lydia's heart beat quickens and in no time Scott hears her whisper, "Oh god," with a quick swallow afterwards. Before he can possibly try to calm her down, Stiles mumbles a little louder, like he always does when about to wake up, and all Scott can do is watch everything unravel before him. Lydia retracts almost completely, all too fast, and supports her upper body by the hand splattered on the mattress. She looks at him with her eyes wide and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, lowering her gaze. Scott also takes the opportunity to shift slightly away from Stiles, pushing himself up on his elbows. He feels cold without the both of them huddled up by his side.

"Good morning..." Scott tries, oh god, he tries, but her face is growing red and Stiles starts making noises- rough, pained ones - so every effort seems pretty much in vain at this point.

Well, at least until she speaks again, "What _is_ that?" She questions, motioning her head towards Stiles with an ambivalent expression on her face. He almost squirms and she's never seen anyone wake up like that, as if they'd been put to sleep a hundred years ago, having to get acquainted with his body and vocal chords all over again. It's amusing, if not disturbing.

Scott can't help but drawl out a genuine laughter when Stiles' mouth goes slack and he opens his eyes slowly, blinking repeatedly through the process. "You okay there, buddy?" He asks, kindly, looking down at his friend. Scott had had his fair share of waking up with Stiles before, watching him twitch and groan like a literal zombie before he finally tears his eyes open and flies headfirst into the start of the day, very similar in the way that he usually flew headfirst into everything else, but y’know. That was Stiles.

This morning, though, seemed to lack the usual theatrics that accompanied his waking up, aside, of course, from the monstrous yawns and obnoxious sound effects that he couldn’t really help when he was coming into consciousness. Instead, Stiles stares at him admiringly, feeling his lips with his tongue before answering, still somewhat dazed from being pushed out of sleep, "I dunno," His voice is low and uneven, scratchy from lack of use, and he’s propping his head up on his elbows before taking a look at the sight before him.

Scott sees the way that Stiles’ eyes are darting between them, the cogs in his head turning furiously as he blinks the sleep away. He’s twiddling his thumbs together as he looks up at them both innocently, a look that both of them recognized as anything but. Scott runs a hand through his hair, taking stock of the situation around him, and feeling a blush creep onto his chest.

The three of them had fallen asleep without changing into pajamas, and Scott’s shirt was wrinkled and his belt had magically come off in the middle of the night. He vaguely has a memory of himself rolling slightly onto Lydia, and her kicking him awake until he reached down and unbuckled it, throwing it across the room before Lydia rolls him over again, and settles into his side.

Stiles is actually in his pajamas, the bastard, looking ruffled and sleepy by his side as he chatters away at Lydia, who’s still making fun of him for waking up like a actual monster. The bags under his eyes are less pronounced somehow, and Scott feels a worry in his chest ease substantially, one that he’d been dimly aware of for the last few weeks, but had packed away for Stiles’ sake, who insisted on not speaking about what was causing them.

The purple bruises under Stiles’ eyes had been so bad that Scott once overheard him making one of his “I’m joking but I’m also serious” jibes to Lydia about needing some of her cover up for his face to try and look a little bit less of a drug addict and a little more like stressed out teenager, because he was pretty sure people couldn’t really tell the difference anymore.

He doesn’t know what exactly about their movie night did it, but Stiles looks like he had gone to sleep before the wee hours of the morning. Though, from the looks of it, he’d definitely gone to sleep much later than he or Lydia had, because Scott has no memory of being under a cover when they were watching the movie, or being next to Lydia for that matter, so he figures that while Stiles got up to change and tuck them in, Scott had been pushed to the middle of the bed.

Lydia, somehow, managed to retain looking utterly perfect, even through a night of sleeping with two of the rowdiest boys that she’d probably ever come into contact with. Well, her hair was a wild halo around her face, her makeup was smeared underneath her eyes, and what Scott recognized as one of her favorite skirts was wrinkled past the point of saving. But there she was, spouting off sarcastic comments about Stiles’ morning time habits, and smiling in such a way that was healthy and alive and virile, "Seriously, you've been stretching for fifteen minutes and I'm not sure how your bones are still connected to one another."

"Well, _excuse me_ for being so athletic, with athletic habits like stretching in the morning." Stiles retorts, a smartass smirk showing on his face.

"Whatever, Stiles. With the cracks I'm hearing you better be athletic, otherwise your fifties will be a pain."

She’s talking animatedly, even propping herself up on her knees to lean over Scott’s chest and really getting into Stiles’ face. The tone of her voice isn’t the icy cold, flippant sound that she’d been directing at nearly everyone, but the one where her voice bleeds the warmth that is constantly overflowing from her heart, the voice that she saves specifically for private moments amongst themselves, something that hadn’t been happening very often lately. It’s like music to Scott’s ears, and there are few other times when Scott has seen her looking as flawless as she does now.

He’s sure that their conversation is something ridiculous, but he keeps his eyes trained on the pair of them anyway, Lydia with her cheeks glowing pink as she listens to Stiles shoot little digs at her stupid little habits that she was unaware that either of them knew about (like the fact that she absolutely destroys pen caps when she’s focused on something, or the way that she hated growing her nails out long but painted the short little stubs in gorgeous colors anyway), and Stiles with the veins bulging out of his neck when Lydia backhandedly compliments him (“It’s utterly absurd that you can say such idiotic things and still be second in the class” and “I can’t believe that you think that it’s okay to let us sleep in our clothes because you _didn’t want to wake us_ , whatever Stiles, screw your courtesy,”).

When Scott starts paying attention to them again, rather than their dynamics as a whole, he sees Stiles narrowing his eyes at him, coming closer. "Yo, Scotty? You there, buddy?" He snaps his fingers in front of Scott's face, calling for his attention. "C'mon, we've got pancakes to eat." Stiles pulls him by the hand and he follows lazily without protesting.

"Your pancakes cannot be that good." Lydia scoffs nonchalantly. She climbs out of bed first and doesn't bother putting on her fancy heels, walking comfortably barefooted.

Scott smiles, finally getting into the conversation himself, "They are, actually." He shrugs. "It's weird, but he's a good cook. Really." The wolf presses, fully aware that this reality is a little hard to swallow, given Stiles' lack of grace.

Stiles' eyebrows shoot up, "How are you being nice and offending me all at once?"

"Well, I'll be the judge of that, thank you." Lydia replies skeptically, pointedly ignoring Stiles. The boys follow her out of the room then downstairs, poking each other playfully own their way, which reminds Scott of a number of sleepovers he and Stiles have had. He wonders how different things would've been if Lydia had always been there. He imagines it would've been fantastic to grow by Lydia's side like he did with Stiles, learning her in the same way. Plus, she would probably have kept them out of a lot of unnecessary trouble.

"You two just sit still and I'll blow your minds with some pancake awesomeness." Stiles smirks and winks at them flirtingly, pointing them to the kitchen chairs. He rubs his palms together, narrowing his eyes at the two of them, looking a little bit too much like he had an evil plan formulating in the back of his head.

Scott smiles in satisfaction, failing to remember the last time he had eaten Stiles' pancakes. "Make a bunch, man." He requests unashamedly.

Stiles squints and points at him accusingly, "You know what? I _will_ make a bunch, because if I don't, you're just gonna eat ours, since you eat for an army, you wolfy weirdo." The boy throws him a semi threatening glare, but goes back to messing with kitchen utensils.

"Hey, play nice. He's your alpha, after all." Lydia mocks and shifts towards Scott, feigning indignation with a slight frown.

Scott knows she's half kidding, however, it's nice to be mentioned in that way regardless, and the tingling sensation in his spine lets him know that perfectly. He doesn't know if the sensation is solely a werewolf thing, but it's good, so he'll gladly take it. "That's true, dude, you have to treat me right."

"Scotty, you're pretty much among the only, like, four people I treat right, so this is really stressful to hear, okay?" Stiles gestures towards Scott and Lydia's general area with a spatula. "I mean, if you're feeling underappreciated, I'm starting to feel sorry for the others."

Lydia hums appreciatively, briefly tapping her chin with her index finger. "You treat me in an average way." She interjects.

Stiles' mouth drops and his gaze flicks between the two of them. "Average? You're one of the four too!" He whines in defeat, but gains back his posture just a second after. "You know what? You're both picky. I've given you guys an awesome movie night under my roof and now I'm cooking for you. I might as well be your boyfriend," Stiles decides. "A stellar one, if I might say so myself."

Scott takes a second to realize what Stiles has just said, and when he does, he chuckles awkwardly at it, nodding silently. He can't explain the sudden touch of discomfort that settles over them, but it's there. For all their sakes he pretends he doesn't hear Stiles' heartbeat pick up as soon as he finishes speaking, or see the way Lydia shifts her weight from one foot to another and swallows dryly while at it.

It was such a nonchalant, joking comment, not really unlike their usual lines of conversation, but it still tugged at something inside of Scott. Stiles rarely said anything without bearing at least a hint of truth (well, unless he was lying of course, which happened more often than Scott would ever openly admit, but he didn’t lie to them, and that’s what was important), so his comment hung in the room, charging the air.

Lydia, thank god, is the one to break the ice. "Well, if you're gonna talk so much, I wanna hear about those pancakes."

Stiles just rolls his eyes, scoffing back at Lydia, “I truly look forward to making you eat your words. Literally.”

The tense moment passes as soon as it came, and they’re back to laughing and bantering in no time, but it stands out in Scott’s mind regardless. It’s a warm little ball of heat that lodges itself in the back of his neck, putting him on edge. There’s a shift in the room, almost impalpable, but Scott feels it. It’s the slight tremor in Lydia’s hand, and the way that Stiles’ heart rate stayed elevated. It’s the clenching of his own hands against his knees, and the slight change in the scent, twisting from the smell of pack to something _sharper_.

He thinks back to something that Lydia’d taught him when she’d been tutoring him in chemistry, that sometimes the slightest shift of a bond completely changes its properties. He couldn’t quite remember if it was for better or worse. He pushes the thought aside though, focusing instead about how things were moving slightly back to the direction of normal.

Stiles sets down a truly obscenely high stack of pancakes at the center of the table, and rubs his palms together before squawking out, “Voila!” His lips are curling into a devious smile, and he’s distributing out the pancakes at some odd ratio that seems to work out with enough for the three of them (how Stiles managed to calculate that, Scott’ll never know, but he takes it as common knowledge that Stiles had a knack for figuring things out).

Scott dives into his food immediately, obviously, already well aware of the fact that Stiles sprinkles cinnamon and other ridiculously delicious spices into his pancakes that makes them out of this world delicious. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Lydia pokes suspiciously at the misshapen circle plopped directly in the center of her plate, narrowing her eyes at Stiles as he looks on disinterestedly.

After a while, he tires of looking like he doesn’t care and whines out, “Oh _come on_ , Lyds, just try them! What’s the worst that could happen?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, “Did you forget about what happened in the chemistry lab when you and Scott were partnered together? Can I really trust you fooling around with mixing stuff together?”

Scott looks up at Lydia, and scoffs with his mouth full, “Lydia! That was _one time_! It’s not my fault that Stiles kept flipping off Harris every time he turned his back.” Lydia’s look of skepticism just deepens in her face, and Scott stuffs another forkful of food into his mouth, “Just try the damn pancakes, Lydia.”

“ _Thank you_ , Scott. Jesus christ Lyds, you’d think someone was making you watch Star Wars by force,” Lydia just glares up at him, shit-eating, winking face and all, and lets out a melodramatic sigh, picking up her utensils to neatly cut the pancake into small pieces.

She stabs one with a fork and finally puts it in her mouth, chewing it pensively, resolve dissolving with every bite. Scott can smell the pleasure rolling off of her in waves. But the way she smells didn’t even matter because she was letting out a little tiny moan that was decidedly the most adorable thing that Scott had ever heard, and Stiles is just jumping up in victory as her steely features melted into pure enjoyment.

Her cheeks redden slightly at the sound she made, and she picks up her napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth and nod at Stiles, clinically and businesslike, “Very satisfactory, Stilinski. I approve.”

The way that Stiles’ smile curls up on his face is downright diabolical, and Lydia gives up the facade almost immediately, “Fine! They’re fucking delicious! Is that really what you needed to hear?!” Stiles and Scott both jump back slightly, because hearing Lydia swear wasn’t too often of an occurrence.

It was mostly the two of them trying to keep Stiles from swearing around small children, and Lydia’s potty mouth stirred something in Scott that was far from appropriate. He’s just lucky that neither Stiles nor Lydia could smell things the way that he did.

Scott clacks his tongue, “Oh, Lyds, you’ve really been missing out,” He gives her a charming grin, slicing his pancakes with his fork.

She rolls her eyes, possibly regretting the admission, "It's not like I can't get them whenever now." Lydia shrugs, starting to properly off of her place. She takes a purposeful bite, staring at both the boys before her.

Stiles frowns, "No, no, this is only for special occasions. Like your first movie night. And first sleepover," He explains, adding some level of seriousness. "You know… Firsts in general."

Lydia narrows her eyes, leaning closer almost instinctively, leaving her fork to fall to the side of the plate, making a small high pitched noise, "Well, then I just have to make sure there are a lot of firsts in the future." She smiles sweetly, retrieving in the slightest and catching the fork again. Scott can hear her heartbeat spike, but not nearly as high as his does.

Stiles' mouth goes agape for more than just a second, and Scott, who was mid swallow, chokes as soon as Lydia finishes speaking, right after listening in to her own reaction. She turns to him, one hand reaching for his back, and they're suddenly all frowns and worry. Lydia doesn't stay put for long, quickly up on her feet and gone for a few seconds before coming back with a tall glass of water and placing it on the table. She doesn't sit again, instead circling him until he can feel the heel of her hand digging skilfully on his back. After that, Scott can breathe again. He sighs in relief when swallowing fully, no longer in trouble, and closes his eyes.

"Drink your water when you can." Lydia commands sharply, but he can still hear the trembling edge of her voice, like she's in light shock.

Stiles looks like he hasn't blinked in hours, completely frozen on his own space, "How'd you do that? What _did_ you do? What even happened?" He questions in awe, flicking his gaze in between the two of his friends, leaning forward with both hands splayed on the table.

Scott’s breathing is still a little uneasy, and Lydia places a soothing hand on his back, almost tentatively, rubbing the spot that she’d pushed into before. Lydia just quirks an eyebrow at Stiles, and shrugs nonchalantly, “I read.”

Scott feels a laugh building in his chest, coming to terms with the fact that Lydia was probably never going to stop surprising them. Her hand’s still on his back and he almost wants to lean into her touch, but stops himself before he can. Scott believes there's a line he isn't supposed to cross, but things have been getting hazy and blending in lately. It makes it hard to police himself. "We should finish this fast so we can watch the other movie soon. My mom's gonna be pissed at me for disappearing for so long." He grimaces instantly, practically hearing Melissa's rant on how being a werewolf doesn't make him an adult.

Stiles frowns and slightly pouts in confusion, "What?" He shakes his head like he doesn't quite understand what Scott's just said.

Lydia throws him a heavy lidded glare, "We didn't finish it last night, Stiles. We fell asleep." She stares him down for a while, then goes back to her pancakes again, looking at Scott sideways once like she's making sure he isn't about to choke again.

Scott swears he sees Stiles' bottom lip quivering before asking wholeheartedly, "You guys really wanna finish it?" And it almost makes him apologize for neglecting the movie for so long, if it means that much to him. He makes a point to approach him about it later.

"I don't do things halfway." Lydia says quickly, like it's a natural response. Her tone is true, fluid and final, from what Scott can hear, and he's glad they none of them are on opposite sides of the argument in question, for once.

Stiles nods without a word, like he just thought exactly what Scott did, and heads for the sink, where his plate is. Scott can tell that Stiles’ silence is completely transparent. His hands are shaking a little, and given a little bit of encouragement, he’d probably break out into a victory dance, complete with whooping and shouting and breaking things. He’s putting the pans and bowls he’d used to make their breakfast into the sink with so little decorum that he’d probably end up breaking a few in his rush.

With Stiles’ back turned to them, Scott and Lydia exchange a knowing glance, and Scott’s chest feels full at the completeness of the whole picture. Something tells him that there was few other places in the world that he’d prefer to being right here in this moment.

Stiles finishes throwing the dirty dishes into the sink, his own half finished plate among them, and swoops around in a swift motion to stride over to the table and grab Scott and Lydia’s plates, “Alright, let’s get this party moving. We’ve got a movie to watch!”

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” Lydia yelps out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice is laced with annoyance, but Scott can sense her excitement, the way her heart flutters at seeing Stiles so thrilled by such a miniscule gesture, “You said those were only for special occasions, I’d like to enjoy them, dammit.”

Stiles is already halfway out the kitchen though, dishes in hand and shouting out behind him, “Didn’t you like, invent multitasking? Eating and watching is a thing!” Scott stands and follows his lead, offering a hand out to Lydia with a smile. He pretends that there isn’t a flush working up in his chest when she takes it without hesitation, and they make their way out of the kitchen and up Stiles’ stairs.

“Eating food isn’t even a cognitive activity, Stiles. It’s not multitasking unless both actions involve cognitive processes” Lydia announces when they finally catch up to him, but he’s already sprawled out on his bed with Scott and Lydia’s plates set up their respective spots, waiting for them to crawl in with him and enjoy their food.

“Proving my point all the more, Lyds,” Stiles smirks at her from his position on the bed.

“How is th-? _What_ point?”

“Lyds, can you just give me this one? Eat the pancakes and come sit with me and watch the movie.”

Scott hops on without pause, bumping shoulders with Stiles and sending him what he presumes is a goofy smirk. He throws an arm over Stiles’ shoulder, squeezing tight, “Ready to finish this journey, dude?”

“I’ve only been waiting for like ten freakin’ years, man. It’s about time we finished it. Think about it. This could’ve been our ten year anniversary of watchings Star Wars together, but you had to go and be stubborn about it for a decade.”

“I’m here now, dude. That’s gotta count for something,”

“It counts for approximately nothing, Scotty. But we’re even ‘cause you ended up liking it, _just as I expected_.”

Lydia’s still standing at the door, watching them interact with her arms still folded over her chest, but she’s got a soft expression on her face from listening to their conversation, “Okay, as much as I hate to break up this lovefest of reminiscing, I’ve been wearing the same clothes for close to twenty four hours. Stiles, this is your house, and you kidnapped us. Care to make some accommodations?”

Stiles’ eyes widen at her words, and she frowns at him slightly, looking like she thinks she might’ve broken him. He scrambles off the bed in a blur, nearly smashing into his drawer in his attempt to pull it open, and haphazardly tosses both Scott and Lydia clothing that would be comfortable enough for them respectively.

Scott feels a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt hit his face, and watches as Lydia struts into Stiles’ bathroom to change with nothing, but a wink as she exits the room. He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath, gripping Stiles’ clothes tight to his chest.

“Thanks, dude,” He strips off his clothing from the day before, turning his body to throw it onto Stiles’ chair, and when he turns back to grab the fresh t-shirt from the bed, he swears that for a fraction of a second, he had seen Stiles _looking_. The thought hits him with such force that he almost huffs out a heavy breath, but he takes a second to calm his racing thoughts and slip into the clothing before his mind could make assumptions that it didn’t need to.

He hops back on the bed and settles into his nook by Stiles side just as Lydia reappears from the bathroom. Her hair’s tied up in a bun, and her makeup had magically come off, leaving Lydia fresh-faced and angelic looking, even though both Scott and Stiles knew for a fact that she was anything but. Scott has to blink hard for a second, because if it was bad enough seeing her looking like she’d just had the best sleep in the world, it was even worse seeing her donning Stiles’ decidedly oversized clothing.

It definitely didn’t help that Stiles’ clothing reeked of him, his fresh scent of rain and too much detergent, and Scott swears that his head spins for a minute. He’s almost annoyed at himself when it happens. What was the point of being a true alpha if he couldn’t even control his emotions around his two _best friends_.

He dismisses the thought for the upteempth time that weekend, and watches as Lydia flashes them a smile, and crawls onto the bed, sidestepping limbs and plates of pancakes.

Stiles takes a deep breath in a contagious anticipation, rubbing his palms together excitedly, "Are we ready?" He glances at both his friends with exhilaration and Scott can feel him irradiating enthusiasm, making it hard for him not to nod almost as delightedly as Stiles asks the question.

"All set." Lydia replies with a small grin, crossing her legs comfortably, and Scott catches the way Stiles' eyes linger when she does so. It's a funny thing to see, their dynamics, but nothing compares to feeling this included, like Stiles isn't crushing alone, and like Lydia isn't making an effort to keep them away. They come together nicely, with a simplicity Scott rarely gets to experience anymore, like a memory he gets to live again. It fills a bit of the hole in his heart and he can only hope it does the same for them.

"Just press play, man." Scott elbows him, seeing his eyes light up when he smirks in that goofy way of his.

"Sure thing, Scotty." 


End file.
